The Good Fight
by The-Seeking-One
Summary: Following our reluctant hero from Vault 101 as she searches for her father, seeks to help those less fortunate, and discovers that love and companionship can still bloom out in the wasteland. LW/Gob, so leave now if ghoulifornication bothers you


Author's Notes: Just here to have fun. Nobody sue me!

* * *

Melissa Hardin took a few tentative steps outside of Vault 101 and was immediately assaulted by acrid, dusty, rancid air. She gagged and covered her nose and mouth with her hands. When she began trudging forward again, she tripped over something that went rolling and clanking aside. Glancing down, she gasped at the realization that the offending item that had caused her to stumble was, in fact, a human femur. She stifled a scream while her eyes took in the scene of scattered bones all along the stone ground just outside the vault's gaping maw. There had to be at least four or five human skeletons laying about, some with hand-written cardboard signs that read "Let us in, motherfuckers!" and "We're dying out here!"

The nineteen-year-old young woman stood frozen momentarily, not sure what to make of the skeletal remains outside of her home. Was the outside world really so dangerous that people died desperately trying to find a way into her sanctuary? What had her father been thinking when he decided to mysteriously leave the vault? And what was _she_ thinking to go blindly running after him? The sounds of men yelling and footsteps approaching quickly shook her from thought and spurred her on.

"Nothing for it now except to plug ahead," Melissa whispered as she ducked her head down to keep an eye out for any more rubble and ran towards the wooden door up ahead at the cave's entrance. Streaks of sunlight poured in between the wooden slats, lighting the pathway for her as the ear-piercing shrieking and grinding of the vault door closing groaned a farewell. They were sealing the vault up behind her. There would be no going back now if she changed her mind or suddenly chickened out. The realization of the gravity and reality of the situation settled heavily in the pit of Melissa's stomach. She thought, for a moment, that she might get sick.

She had prepared as best she could for the journey, given that she had been woken rather hastily and hadn't much time to pack. Melissa wore the blue, one-piece jumpsuit adorned with yellow "Vault 101" stitching on the back that was the standard apparel of the average vault dweller along with her black sneakers. She'd quickly ran a brush through her thick, shoulder-length, copper blonde hair, as futile as it was considering her hair tended to be wavy and had a mind of its own in regards to styling. She'd tossed the brush into her khaki camper backpack and filled it with everything she thought she might need: bottled waters, a tin of Mentats, assorted canned and packaged foods, several packs of bubble gum to chew when she was stressed, toothbrush and toothpaste, socks and underwear, several dark gray undershirts, an extra bra, her favorite Nuka-Cola red-and-white pajama pants, a switchblade knife, and several packs of matches.

She'd also added a few sentimental items because she knew she'd probably never be able to come back: her baseball, glove, and bat along with her Vault-Tec Bobblehead, a pack of playing cards, a photo of her father and her from her tenth birthday party, and a few of her favorite books. With the straps and fastenings that hung off the outside of her pack, she'd managed to rig up and secure a few more items that wouldn't fit inside. They would add to her weight and probably be awkward to carry as they bounced around, but she was determined never to part with either of them. The first was the BB gun her father had given her on her tenth birthday, which she fastened securely to the right side of the pack. The second, though completely unnecessary, was solely for her own mental health, something that she knew would provide her both comfort and distraction while out in what she felt would be the unforgiving world. She very stubbornly and willfully managed to strap the hard leather case which housed her acoustic guitar to the very front of the backpack, looking for all the world like a machine gun case in a Mafia movie.

Satisfied, Melissa had wrapped a red bandana around her head to keep her unruly mane at bay and any perspiration out of her eyes. She'd fastened the 10mm handgun Amata had given her to the right side of her black leather belt, which she normally didn't need to wear with the jumpsuit, but today she'd wanted anything and everything on her person that could be used to carry items. Then, she placed the 10mm clips into a pouch on the right shoulder strap of her backpack; the BB gun pellets went into a matching pouch on the left shoulder strap. With everything secured and in place, Melissa had slung the heavy pack onto her back, grunting a bit with the strain of it all, and had begun her escape from the vault.

Now, Melissa paused at the rickety wooden door in front of her. The entrance to Vault 101 was sealed behind her. She knew there was no turning around and going back home, and she pushed back the mild panic that thought caused. But at the same time, she was a bit hesitant to press forward into the great unknown. For all she knew, she might push that door open only to find her father dead on the ground, destined to look just like those poor souls surrounding the vault's entrance behind her. Almost as bad was the trepidation at what she would see. Melissa had grown up learning about what the world was like before the nuclear holocaust. The pictures in books gave her imagination beautiful, vivid scenes of paradise -- tranquil blue waters brimming with fish, clear blue skies housing a shining yellow sun and happy white clouds, green grass waving in the wind and giving home to tall trees with green leaves, blooming flowers of varying shades of spectacular color, and frolicking animals such as spotted fawns and white rabbits. In the industrialized areas of the country, there were once grand skyscrapers gleaming in the sky, cars running to and fro, flocks of people busy going about their day. There was _life, _once upon a time. She was hesitant to see what was left of the world after the bombs had destroyed it all those long years ago; scared to destroy that perfect little utopia she had built up inside of her head. She sighed, took a deep breath, steeled her resolve, and pushed the wooden door open.

Her senses were assaulted for a second time since setting foot outside Vault 101. The glare of the harsh sun nearly blinded her for a moment and Melissa winced, covering her pained, blue eyes with the back of her sleeved forearm. After a few moments to adjust, she slowly lowered her arm and frowned. The air was thick and heavy with heat and dust. It was a little painful to breath and she was fairly sure that after a few more inhalations, she could start chewing the grit that was accumulating on her tongue. The muggy heat made the air feel heavy, almost like one had to push through it slowly like water. The sun's rays were harsh and Melissa could already, after just a few moments, feel it beginning to burn her skin. The rays caused bright, almost blinding glares to bounce off of the flat sides of boulders. Sweat quickly began tickling down her scalp and she was grateful for her foresight with the bandana. She did, however, regret leaving her baseball cap behind; that would have afforded both her head and her eyes some shade and comfort from the unrelenting sun.

A dusty, gritty wind picked up and blew through the canyon's trail, causing Melissa to shelter her face for a third time. She knew she should begin moving soon and find some shelter. _'Perhaps sleeping during the steamy days and moving in the shade of night might be a good starting plan,' _she thought. The next thought that struck her, delayed a bit in its response, was the eerie silence of the world around her. Other than the howl of the wind passing through, there were no signs of life. No conversation, no footsteps, no laughter, no animal growls. Just silence; eerie, dead, and unfriendly. Melissa almost shivered from the unnerving feeling, even though she was beginning to feel sticky with sweat. She sighed again, looped her thumbs underneath her shoulder straps, and began to walk down the canyon path in search of her father; in search of the answers to many questions she had, not the least of which was why he had mysteriously disappeared that morning with no warning and no explanation other than a vague recording, leaving in his wake an irate Overseer, a panicking vault security guard, and a dead family friend.

The first hint of civilization, or what was left of it, greeted Melissa in the form of a now-defunct road. She stepped onto the cracked, faded asphalt and looked around. The road crumbled and, from what she could tell, ended in mid-run up the mountainside to her right. A section of ruined overpass towered overhead, its road collapsed on either side, leaving it standing there like an homage to Stonehenge. Down to her left, the road's remains traveled down the mountain into a long stretch of plain. The carcass of a car sat rusting down this path. Beyond it appeared to be the remains of a town. Gutted buildings stood with only their wooden framework remaining to defy the elements, their insides crumbled and decaying like the insides of an animal whose stomach was just split open with a knife. The scene made Melissa feel sick inside and she fought back tears.

"But where there's the remains of a town," she said to herself, "There may be useful items laying around or a colony of survivors' descendants nearby."

The lone wanderer descended carefully into the abandoned town. Just as she reached the first decrepit building, her Pip-Boy 3000 crackled on her left forearm. She lifted it and clicked through the various informational screens and discovered that while the vault's intercom system was, understandably, no longer a viable signal, she'd gained the signals of two different radio stations. Her heart leapt as she gazed down in wonder. Unless the stations were trapped on an indefinite loop, it could only mean one thing: humanity was alive and broadcasting somewhere out in those barren lands.

She turned her dial and, after a few moments of fiddling, got the first new station to come in fairly clear. At the moment, it was playing _'Yankee Doodle Dandy.' _Melissa frowned, her first instinct being that the station really was trapped on an infinite loop and nobody was actually running it. She dialed into the other signal, which seemed to come in more clearly than the first. Her ears were greeted by the crooning of Bob Crosby and the Bobcats. Again, music that belonged to the time period of the world's end and probably meaning that station, too, was just replaying its final broadcast over and over. Melissa sighed and turned the radio off in disgust.

The patriotic piccolo of _'Yankee Doodle Dandy' _still played, albeit very faintly. Melissa rolled her eyes and drew the Pip-Boy back up to her face. All she needed was for it to start malfunctioning and she'd really be in a pickle. At the moment, it was her sole companion and greatest friend out in the middle of nowhere. She checked and confirmed that she'd shut the radio fully off, so she was truly confused as to why music was not only continuing to play, but was increasing in volume.

With her nose stuck down in her Pip-Boy screen, Melissa very nearly had a run-in with an Enclave eyebot as it flew by, blaring its station for all to hear. She ducked and whirled around, staring at the contraption that had very nearly decapitated her. It was a small, round metallic robot with several antenna sprouting from its top and bottom like the whiskers of a lionfish. It motored along and distanced itself from her, as if on its way to somewhere, then turned and began flying back in her direction. She watched it suspiciously, resting her hand on her 10mm. The eyebot buzzed by her head again and continued down the road, turning left at an intersection and fading off into the distance.

"So," she muttered, "it's set on an infinite, preprogrammed route as well."

Melissa frowned, feeling more isolated by the moment. She walked up to the decayed house on her right and dug around in the debris for a bit. There was little of value or use left; indeed, most of the rubbish was so weather-worn that there was not much one could recognize outside of the metal of a boxspring mattress long unused. She then checked the house's mailbox, which stood leaning at a crooked angle. There was a letter sitting inside. Fearing no federal laws in this ghost town, Melissa looked at the envelope. The town she was currently investigating was apparently Springvale, or used to be, and the house had once belonged to a Mr. and Mrs. Randall Patterson. She opened the envelope and read the letter from Vault-Tec, which held all the sympathy of a college rejection letter. Melancholy settled in Melissa's heart as she thought of the family that had held hope of salvation in Vault 101. They had perished here in the shadow of their denied deliverance while Melissa's family had been accepted and survived. Why had her ancestors been allowed in while this long-forgotten family was left to perish?

The lone wanderer solemnly re-folded the letter and tucked it inside its envelope respectfully. She placed it back inside the mailbox with care and tenderly closed the door, feeling some guilt for their fate and for invading what remained of their privacy. She shuffled on to the next house only to find equal ruin. The second house's mailbox, however, appeared to hold some items of use. Inside there was a plastic object shaped like a small pair of binoculars, but a set of syringes poked out of it. Melissa had no idea what it was, but thought it might perhaps be some sort of medical device, either of which might prove useful in trade and bartering. The second object looked identical to an inhaler someone with asthma might carry on their person. Again, another potential medical device that may be good for trade. The last of the goods stashed in the mailbox included a handful of bottle caps, which appeared to be just bottle caps and of little to no value. Melissa slung her pack forward over her right shoulder, used her left hand to unfasten the top, stashed away the goodies -- minus the useless bottle caps -- refastened the top, and swung the pack gently onto her back again, running her left arm back through the shoulder strap.

After checking the rest of the houses and mailboxes along the road, which yielded a few more items of interest, Melissa stopped at the intersection the eyebot had turned down and looked around. To her left was the rest of Springvale and a rather large brick building that might contain more goodies since it appeared to have survived the war and weather better than its wooden counterparts. In front of her stood a concrete slab littered with rusting cars and a red, metal rocketship sign. What held her interest, however, was the steel wall that stood there, looking entirely unnatural to the rest of the pre-war town, with the word "MEGATON" and an arrow pointing to the right, spray-painted in yellow upon the metal sheets. Melissa gazed down the path the arrow pointed to and saw, not a dead, asphalt road, but a dirt pathway that had obviously been treaded upon recently and stood out from the rest of the surrounding, untouched dirt.

Melissa set off down the path towards Megaton, which she could only guess was the surviving remnants of humanity organized into a nearby community. Despite her growing fatigue, the sweltering heat, and the weight on her back, she kept up a brisk pace now that she had some hope, curiosity, and excitement in her heart again. With steps that felt lighter the closer she got, the lone wanderer picked the pathway between a few tall boulders and reached the end of the rock field. Before her stood a rancid, smoldering lake of something rather pungent that was decorated with the skeleton of a bull, the remains of what appeared to be a gigantic fire ant, and a large town -- at least, she assumed this was the town of Megaton as previously advertised -- surrounded by tall walls of varying types of scrap metal. The defense was almost blinding with the glare of the sun, but she supposed it was probably a very good and efficient cover from possible external threats and from the relentless, sandstorm-like winds that blew through more often than Melissa cared for, quite frankly.

The young woman steered clear of the nuclear waste pool and trekked her way down into the valley that housed the town. Looking up, she spotted a sniper stationed at the top of the metal wall, but he appeared unconcerned by her approach. Below stood two large, metal walls like some type of futuristic fort. Guarding the entrance was a rather round, bipedal robot with a head that looked for all the world like the top of a bubble gum-dispensing machine. As Melissa approached, the robot sprang to life with a monotone voice.

"Welcome to Megaton," the sentinel greeted as cheerfully as an emotionless android could. "Enjoy your stay. Do not worry. The bomb is harmless."

"Bomb?" Melissa asked aloud.

* * *

End of chapter notes:

So, I see has made some rules about putting song lyrics in fics. I'd have listed a few lyrics that fit each chapter at the beginning of each chapter, but I'm paranoid so I won't. Instead, I'll just list the song at the end and creative types can have fun figuring out why I felt each song fit each chapter.

_Chapter 1 Song: "The World I Know" by Collective Soul_

Also, many thanks and a large round of applause is due to DDG, who so graciously accepted my beta request from out of the blue. She's doing a fabulous job and I very much appreciate her feedback and encouragement. Even though I've been writing for a very long time, I've not put much of my work out there into the public view, so I was fretting terribly over it. Especially since, as an Aries, I have a terrible habit of starting many things only to never finish them, which is the root cause of my not putting writings out in public view in the first place. But I'm breaking this habit and, hopefully, if the rest of you find my work intriguing and palatable, I will now have others who can poke me with sporks and I can finally finish a darn story and get my groove back (Yay!). LOL

And finally, while a guitar has, indeed, made an appearance, do not worry. I've read plenty of scary-bad fanfiction with people singing and dancing like a Disney movie... and it's safe to say that this is not my intention. There will be some playing, there will be some occasional singing... maybe there'll be some dancing if somebody feels froggy and has had enough to drink... but I don't plan on burning out your retinas. Rather, I'd like to show that music can be incorporated into writing without it being horribly bad. I hope that, as a writer and a novice musician, I'll be able to pull this off and break a "bad fanfiction" stereotype.


End file.
